


The Life That Never Was

by mzaddkzg



Category: None - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 08:18:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16013975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mzaddkzg/pseuds/mzaddkzg





	The Life That Never Was

Have you ever experienced something that you essentially believed ruined your life? Not something small, not something minor – no. Something that genuinely fucked up your entire happiness. Tampered with your wellbeing. Messed up your sanity. Yeah? Me too.

November the 10th, 2015 was the day that my life took a turn for the worst. It’s taken me practically three years to pluck up the courage to write this account of my experience, yet I’m almost certain I will never get over it. Mentally, I am different. I will never be the same.

It was a Thursday evening and I’d taken my usual route home from the bus-stop after my shift at the stationary factory – exciting, I know; manufacturing pencils, pens and notepads for a living. Anyhow, my small apartment was about a fifteen-minute walk from the nearest bus-stop. I didn’t mind, though. I’d gotten used to it quickly, meaning it felt like less and less effort as time went by. In 2013, at the age of twenty-one, I’d moved out of my parents’ house in Michigan and moved to my own tiny place in New York. I didn’t have the highest income, the nicest home or the best social life, but I was content. I had no girlfriend but I had a small circle of friends who frequently invited me to the bar on weekends, or occasionally over to their houses when they threw parties or small gatherings – which initially kept me from being a full-time isolated introvert. I worked a lot of hours to say I was so young, which meant I could comfortably pay my rent each month whilst simultaneously keeping food on my table and still sometimes having enough to go out at the weekend.

This particular Thursday in the middle of September was particularly cold. I’d finished work at 6pm, got off of the bus at 6:45 and gotten caught up in the middle of an awful rain storm. Groaning, I stepped off the bus, pulled up my hood and buried my mouth behind the zipper. Throwing my hands into my pockets I silently praised myself for remembering to bring a coat that morning – as it was something I frequently forgot to do. With the rain falling heavier with each of my steps, it was becoming increasingly harder to see where I was going – lucky I wasn’t a tourist, huh? Checking both ways, I stepped into the road to cross over to the side my building was located on. I was probably not even 100m away from my apartment building when a car suddenly came flying around the bend and I could do nothing but freeze in pure shock horror. I was momentarily in a movie-like slo-mo scenario until reality hit me hard – quite literally. The car collided with my right side, knocking me over like a bowling pin as I hit the cold, wet ground. I was immediately unconscious.

The next thing I remember was briefly waking up on a gurney, being rushed down a dingy hospital hallway. “His eyes are open!” one paramedic yelled, triumphantly. “Get him through those doors and into theatre five!” a random doctor ordered.

Sure enough, I was wheeled into the theatre before promptly falling unconscious again. However, not too long after, I woke up in a hospital bed. Though slightly groggy, I managed to sit myself up and adjust my eyes to my surroundings. The right side of my ribcage and my right leg hurt like hell and I had to take deep breaths and bite down on my bottom lip in order to not to scream the building down with curse words. As if on cue, a doctor walked in with a bright smile and a tray in her hands. I was immediately infatuated with her astonishingly dark eyes. Admittedly, girls with blue or green eyes had always caught my attention – but hers were different. The darkest of brown, practically black, pupils not visible. She blinked and I couldn’t help but notice her false lash was coming off. I stifled my snigger as she approached.

“Hello, Mr. P. How are you feeling?” she smiled, warmly, setting the tray with three cups down on the bed side table. “Please. Call me Ryan. And a little better, I-I guess.” I tried to act tough, but with fractured – possibly, broken, - bones, that proved almost impossible. She nodded as she headed over to the large window and drew the curtains open, almost blinding me with the midday sun.

“Well, Ryan, let’s have a little look at your record.” She said, almost as if to herself, as she retrieved the clipboard from the plastic pouch at the foot of the bed. I watched her with passion. She was stunning. Straining my eyes, I managed to catch a glimpse of her name tag – Dr. B. Akhtar.

“B?” I spoke up. She hummed and looked at me. “Huh? Oh.” She giggled. “Bella. Short for Nabeelah-Florence.” “That’s a mouthful.” I raised my eyebrow. “Can’t handle it?” she smirked. “Oh, I think I could.” I winked.

She blushed faintly and averted her attention back to the clipboard. I grinned to myself but when she looked back up I fell straight-faced in an attempt to hide my giddiness. She noticed this and sniggered. “So, looks like you broke one rib and fractured your right knee and ankle. You were pretty lucky, crazy bitch had been drink-driving.” She sighed. “Do they know who she was?” I blinked. “Yes, but I’m not personally sure.” She responded. But admittedly, I wasn’t listening – I was instead, looking to see if she had a ring on her left finger. _Bingo_.

After some talking about this that and the other, I finally asked her if she wanted to go get a drink or something when I had fully recovered. She flashed her winning smile and promptly agreed. This would be the start of the happiest years of my life. Our first date went well. We decided to go to a classy little Italian on main where I ate the fanciest food I’d ever tasted and we drank the most expensive champagne. With my income not being the best, that date alone would almost certainly put a painful dint in my bank account – regardless, she was worth it. Tipsy from the champagne and full from the food, we headed out of the restaurant and into the night. I, of course, paid for everything and she left a £10 tip. Before we were even out of the glass door, she had a cigarette between her nude lips and I chuckled at her. She smiled and we stepped into the light rain. She must’ve been freezing as she wore a little, skin-tight black dress. Her fur coat was lilac and draped over her shoulders, probably not doing a great deal to repel the cold. Her legs shook beneath her weight as she noticeably struggled in her insanely-high, black suede heels (I was still taller than her so I was happy).

I lit her cigarette for her as we walked at a steady pace through the busy city. I wasn’t sure where she lived, how she was getting home, if she was getting a bus, a taxi—

“Ryan?” she interrupted my thoughts. “S-sorry. Yeah?” “Which way do you live?” she giggled. “North from town. About half an hour.” I pointed in the direction of my bus, praying she wouldn’t be disappointed I didn’t drive. After all, she was over a year younger than me. “I’m the opposite – south, ten or so minutes.” She nodded.

I gulped. Was she going home already?  I looked up at the night sky, watching the light rain fly past the orange street light above our heads. Admittedly, it looked pretty cool. “Don’t you just love—” she cut my sentence short by grabbing my shirt collar and pulling me towards her, so we were chest to chest in the pale moonlight and rain. We kissed and everything felt like slow motion again. When we pulled away, she was staring deep into my green eyes, with her almost-black ones. Her eye makeup made them even darker than usual and I lost myself almost immediately. “You don’t really wanna go back home allll on your own, do you?” she pouted, blinking he lashes, our faces still inches apart. I swallowed the lump in my throat and shook my head, quickly. “Good. The uber to my apartment is in two minutes, let’s go.” And without anther word, she grabbed my hand and tipsily lead me to the pickup spot she’d chosen.

Her apartment was stunning. I mean, I didn’t really consider the fact that she was a doctor and I was a factory-worker, but you get the gist of it. She unlocked the door and switched on the light. We were stood in a stunning lounge area with a built-in fire place and one single L shaped sofa and TV. The coffee table was black marble with white designs and I envied her style. In fact, her entire apartment interior was predominantly black, white and grey – giving the entire place a classy feel. “Make yourself at home…” she whispered into my neck as she set her keys down on the small table by the door. She hung up her fur coat up on the coat stand by the door and removed her heels, sighing in relief. I put my coat on the neighbouring hook and cautiously approached the sofa. It was a grey fabric with black and white fur pillows. Stunning, but hopefully not where I’d be sleeping.

The kitchen was behind the couch, essentially the same room as it was not walled off and there were no doors, only a contrast in flooring from black carpet to black tiles. The white marble counter tops ran around the perimeter and there was a matching island in the middle, with a glass case of wine and champagne glasses hanging from the ceiling above it. I sat on the sofa and watched as she put on some quiet back ground music and swayed her hips as she placed two glasses on the island and poured us some wine. She then joined me on the sofa, brushing her wet black curls out of her face as she sipped her wine and set it down. Behind her were two wall-sized windows, looking down at the lit-up city that was New York itself. It was stunning and I couldn’t help but stand up to go look at it. Being 12 floors up made the view so much more breath-taking, definitely a lot nicer than the view I had from my apartment of a brick wall from a neighbouring building, anyway.

Silently, she stood up from the couch and walked up behind me. The soft music still played in the background from the kitchen as I stared at her reflection in the huge window. I smirked and drank from the wine glass. Both drunk and the mood set, we spent the rest of the night- well, I don’t have to spell it out for you, do I?

Shortly after that night, we had a second date, which eventually lead to a fourth, sixth and eighth. Then, I finally asked her to be my girlfriend. Undeniably, we moved pretty quickly. After six months, I sold my apartment and moved in with her, splitting all bills and costs 50/50. After a year of being together, I finally went back to complete my studies from a couple of years prior and, as a result, became a teacher two years after we started dating. Being as she was still a doctor and I was now a teacher, we could afford to move into an actual house – bigger and better. Three years of dating sped by and we were living in a stunning home in the heart of the big apple. After four and a half years of dating, we were pregnant with a healthy baby boy. He was eventually born on March the 2nd and named Oscar-Thomas, just weeks after our five-year dating anniversary. He was the light of my life. Essentially, they both were. We were society’s definition of a perfect family. Both my wife and I had a stable income, we both drove nice cars, owned a big, beautiful house together and parented a stunning baby boy – together. By the time Oscar was five, I was deep into a satisfying daily routine. My wife and I both worked long shifts but managed to spend a good amount of time with our son, and when weekends came around, Saturday was our designated date night, so we still had some couple-time.

One night, I was watching TV, sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea. Oscar was on the carpet by my feet, reading some sort of comic. I sipped from my tea and, upon realising it was still a little hot, put it back down on the small table by the arm of the sofa. But as I placed it on the coaster, I caught a glimpse of the lamp that sat beside it at a weird angle. I wasn’t sure what it was specifically, but something was up. Unable to comprehend what I was seeing, I simply sat and stared. The hands on the large wall clock spun around and before I knew it, hours had gone by. It was 8pm and Bella was home from work. Exhausted and sighing, the front door opened and she stepped inside, hanging up her coat. “Mummy! Mummy!” Oscar ran over, hugging her knees. “Hey baby, what are you doing awake?” she sounded surprised, kissing the top of his head. “Where’s daddy?” she asked, before he could answer her first question. Unnerved and blatantly quite worried, he pointed to the sofa where I’d sat staring at the same lamp for almost four hours now.

“Ryan?” she walked over to me, her voice laced with concern. “What is it, baby, what’s the problem?” she asked, worriedly, kneeling beside me and placing her manicured hand on my thigh. To begin with, my lips moved but no noise came out. “The… the lamp.” I eventually managed to push the words out of my dry throat, the cold cup of tea still sat beside me. She exchanged glances with our son, but I could just not take my eyes off of the lamp. She whispered to him to go upstairs and she’d meet him in a minute and he promptly nodded before hurrying up the spiralling, marble staircase. “Ry, what the fuck is going on?!” she whisper-yelled. “Why you acting like this?!” she demanded. Once again, my lips silently moved before an actual response came to the surface. “It’s almost… 2D.”

“The lamp… is 2D?” she raised her shaped eyebrow. I nodded, slowly. “Have you been fucking smoking weed again?!” she slapped my upper arm as she said ‘fucking’. I shook my head, rapidly. “N-no, Bella…”

“I don’t know what the hell is up with you but I’ma let you sort your damn self out. I’ma go put our son to bed considering he was supposed to be sleeping an hour ago, then I’ma make myself a lil’ food and wine before bed.” She explained, sighing when I responded with nothing more than a nod. As Bella went about everything she said she was going to, I finally found the willpower to stand up and walk to the toilet whilst she was sat at the kitchen island eating pasta with a large glass of wine. After peeing, I went into the kitchen to find my wife loading the dishwasher. I walked up behind her and kissed her neck. She briefly smiled, pulling out a lighter from her pocket. “You wanna go outside?” I nodded and we stepped into the back porch together. After some silent smoking, she turned to look up at me, a look of genuine misconception hidden deep in her eyes. “Is everything ok?” she breathed. I sucked on my bottom lip and thought deeply about my answer. Why did the lamp look 2D anyway? Was it where I was sat? Did I just stare for too long? I decided I just needed some sleep and nodded. “Yes, baby girl.” I stroked her cheek with my thumb. “Everything’s gonna be fine…” I whispered.

We headed back inside to go up to bed together but, when I came back into the living room to switch off the TV, I caught another glimpse of the lamp. This time, from a different distance, different angle and different perspective – yet it still looked 2D. “You coming, sweetie?” my wife’s voice rang in my ears like a dog whistle. “Y-yeah, I’ll be up in ten.” “OK, well I’m knackered so I’ma wash my face and get into bed.” “OK, sugar.” I waved her off as she cluelessly headed upstairs, switching off the latter of the lights on her way, leaving me in total darkness bar the TV and that vexatious lamp. I eventually found myself back in the same spot on the sofa and the TV timed out, ultimately turning off. The following morning, Bella was infuriated and wildly upset/scared that I’d evidently sat up all night with not a wink of sleep, simply staring at the 2D lamp that apparently wasn’t 2D.

After some stern words she had to leave to take Oscar to school and head to work herself. Yet, I didn’t budge. I didn’t eat, I didn’t sleep, I didn’t drink, I didn’t pee. I simply stared. Another day/night went by and my wife and son were becoming increasingly worried about me, but it wasn’t until sun rise on the third day that I noticed something else was also wrong: the armchair, in the background of the lamp was also 2D. And so, I spent the remainder of the third day and the coming fourth day, trying to also process the armchair as well as the lamp. I finally had the epiphany on the evening of the fourth night, but hours before my wife’s mental breakdown.  What if… it wasn’t real? What if nothing was real? What if – one by one – every inanimate object in my life was gradually turning 2D because it was some sort of… simulation? False truth. Altered reality? What if the lamp and chair were only the beginning? Maybe next would be the stairs? The kitchen island? What if Bella turned 2D? Or Oscar? Or _me_? What if everything I’d ever known and loved was just… _not real_?

As I fore mentioned, my wife indeed had a mental breakdown, essentially leading to her calling the police and a psychiatrist. Whilst police calmed my wife down and eventually escorted her and my son to her sister’s house across town for the time being. Meanwhile, the psychiatrist was left with me – with two police man by the foyer in case I was, quote-on-quote, “dangerous to myself or others”.

“Mr. Pacey. I am Doctor Leavers. I am going to help you, OK?” he spoke with a deep voice, soothing actually, yet all I could do was nod. After four days staring blankly at the same lamp, my neck would certainly require physiotherapy if I was even considering looking in the opposite direction. “Now, in order to get you out of a trance, we must put you under a new one. Understand?” I briefly nodded, although I really didn’t. “Good.” He started swinging a tiny wrist watch in front of my face, ultimately being the first real distraction I’d had from the lamp since this whole ordeal started. My eyes subconsciously followed the swinging watch as my mind succumbed to the psychiatrist’s smooth, deep tone. He was putting me under hypnosis. And it was working. Unable to back out now, he started saying something about my eyelids becoming heavier – and though it was difficult to concentrate properly due to the events of the last four days – he was right. Incapable of fighting any longer, I submitted to the peacefulness of sleep/unconsciousness and allowed myself to gently drift off.

Like on TV and in films, I heard his voice before I saw anything more than darkness. I heard the clicking of his fingers and the repeating of the phrase. “Wake up. Come on now. Wake up.” However, I became dazed and confused when other sounds begun to filter in as well. Not only could I hear the clicking of Doctor Leavers’ fingers, or the sound of his familiar voice, but I could now hear radio static, multiple other voices and… _rain_? At first, I was almost 99% convinced that I’d developed schizophrenia, psychosis or some other bullshit mental disorder; but the reality of the outcome was much worse. My green eyes flickered open to see two uniformed people lingering above me, one man – a paramedic - shining a stupidly bright torch in my eyes, the other – a policewoman - watching closely as she spoke into the radio-talky on his shoulder. Turns out, the voice who I thought belonged to Psychiatric doctor Leavers actually belonged to a paramedic. I groaned as I managed to tilt my head and look around – police tape surrounded the area and multiple onlookers and passers-by were nosily bordering the sealed off area. I looked back at the male paramedic who was examining me and had just switched off the torch. I squeezed my eyes closed and opened them back up several times so they could adjust to the night sky and surrounding red and blue lights from ambulances and police cars. Then, I caught a glimpse of something a little crazy. The paramedic’s name tag. It was small, white and had one simple, black name imprinted on it – _Leavers_. I shuddered and gulped. Seconds later, I was lifted onto a gurney as a single tear slipped down my cheek. A woman’s slurred voice was what caught my attention, though. I slowly turned my head as I was being wheeled towards the ambulance to see a very short lady being dragged from the driver’s seat of black car that had hit me. I was already ultimately traumatised due to the fact that I’d appeared to’ve just lived ten years in a matter of minutes, so can you imagine how it felt to see that the drunk bitch being dragged out of the car had black curly hair, dark sparkly eyes and a doctor’s uniform on…?

It’s taken me years of therapy to even be able to tell my story - let alone get over it. After being hit by a drunk driver, I went into a state of unconsciousness where I somehow spoofed up my own life; I’d lived ten years in probably less than five minutes. Psychiatrists said they’ve never seen anything like it - and if they have, not to this extreme. I went to court - against the girl who I dreamt was my doctor wife. Turns out her real name was Lissa. Lissa Roanstein. It was hard facing her, my mind had conjured up a whole new persona for her in my state of unconsciousness and it was ‘medically impressive’ according to doctors - because I’d only gotten a glimpse of her face before she hit me with her car, yet I managed to remember her entire face and hair perfectly and instigate her into my ‘fantasy’.

She was charged with driving over the limit and sent to prison for her dangerous driving. That was three years ago. I didn’t seek help immediately. I couldn’t. I moved back in to my old apartment but it took me a year to unpack everything. Until then, everything was surrounding me in cardboard boxes. I never purchased another lamp again. I kept to myself and took some time off of my teaching job in order to regain my stability. Though, I’m not sure I ever will.


End file.
